


Solace in the Night

by hogwartsahoy



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Albus is Neville's Herbology assistant, Alternate Universe, Fluff, M/M, Scorpius teaches Muggle Studies, with a huuuUuuuuge crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22235527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hogwartsahoy/pseuds/hogwartsahoy
Summary: He could never be a teacher – being called Professor Potter would be all too much.And the title of Professor suited Scorpius Malfoy much, much better, he thought.
Relationships: Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 81





	Solace in the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lumoshyperion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumoshyperion/gifts).



> This is dedicated to my friend Emily, lumoshyperion, whose work I'm sure many of you will have read and loved before. But today is her birthday, and as I can't give her anything in person to celebrate and thank her for being a lovely human and wonderful friend, I decided to try writing something for her. She loves AUs, and I never really write them, but this idea popped into mind. It was a blast to write and I'm more than happy to not only gift it to Emily, but also for it to be my first Scorbus fic of 2020!
> 
> Happy Birthday Emily. I hope you very much like this little fic that I put together and that it puts a smile on your face. I hope you've had an incredible birthday so far and I love and adore you very much! <3

It really was rather unfortunate. The way Albus Potter had gone all seven years of his time at Hogwarts (and _more)_ and hadn’t fallen in love with anyone, but the second his gaze had fallen upon Professor Scorpius Malfoy he’d been entirely doomed.

The man was from France – had attended the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, had then studied for a few years to become a Muggle Studies teacher (the subject being his favourite, but Albus’ _least_ favourite because he knew enough about them already – though perhaps it wasn’t so bad after all), and then had come to teach at Hogwarts.

Albus knew about the Malfoy’s. His father had told him about them before his first year at school, believing that Draco Malfoy’s son – the Scorpius who was now before him – would be in his same year. But then Albus had gotten to Hogwarts, and there had been no Malfoy’s in sight. But that hadn’t saved him from the bullying his father had to put up with from Draco. No, others had found their way to Albus Potter.

Why he’d decided to come back to the very place he’d spent many of his teenage years feeling miserable, unwanted and ridden with anxiety… he didn’t know.

“Oi, _Mister Potter,_ what are you thinking about?”

His head shot up – and his quill dropped from his hand and spilled ink all over the parchment in front of him. He hissed and grabbed his wand, quickly reversing his mistake, and then looked up at the classroom of students sat in front of him.

They were _all_ looking at him.

“What– what did you say, Mr. Abbott?”

“I _asked_ what you were thinking about, _sir._ ”

Albus narrowed his eyes. “I’m thinking about how you’ll fail your quiz if you don’t stop talking to me and focus on your work.” He knew his words weren’t very appropriate for a teacher to say. But _technically_ he wasn’t a teacher. He was just… a helper, for lack of a better word. He helped out Neville – Professor Longbottom – in the Herbology Greenhouses. Or, today, overlooked a third year class taking a quiz.

He could _never_ be a teacher – being called _Professor Potter_ would be all too much.

And the title of _Professor_ suited Scorpius Malfoy much, much better, he thought.

William Abbott, thankfully, returned to his quiz and allowed Albus to go back to pretending to be writing things down on the parchment in front of him but really just thinking about Scorpius. Several floors above him, he was teaching a class, and in only twenty minutes, Albus would likely be running into him in the Great Hall for dinner.

He cringed at the thought.

Perhaps he would take dinner in Hogsmeade today – after all, he wasn’t needed at Hogwarts after his last class of the day and dinner in the Great Hall wasn’t mandatory… _yes,_ Hogsmeade seemed like a much better plan. Because if he avoided Scorpius Malfoy, he’d learnt that he would embarrass himself less. And he really did have a very bad habit of embarrassing himself dreadfully.

The rest of the lesson passed slowly and Albus stayed at his desk, drawing small doodles and writing parts of poems that would never see the light of day until _finally_ he could stand up and tell the students to put their quills down and hand in their quizzes to him before they left the classroom.

The quizzes began to pile up on his desk only moments later and Albus watched as all of the students sat them down and left, seemingly thrilled to be done with their classes for the day. He noticed as a quieter student approaching at the back of the line, and gave them his best smile as she paused in front of him. She seemed a little nervous – and Albus hoped it wasn’t because of him.

“What is it, Miss. Fletcher?” He asked, as warmly as he could muster.

She looked down at her paper. “I forgot what the date was so I didn’t mark it on the top like you always tell us to. Would you mind telling me the date so I can write it and then hand it in?”

Albus’ lips twitched up into a larger smile, and he nodded. “Thank you for asking and for not just deciding to forget the date all together,” he hummed. “It’s January 13th 2028.”

He watched as the student quickly grabbed her quill again and wrote the date down on the top of the page, and then she handed it back to him with a smile, packed her things up and was out of the classroom in minutes.

It was small moments like that which made him glad to be here.

Albus stood up and pulled his coat off of the back of his chair, tugged it on and wrapped a scarf around his neck, and then picked up the pile of quizzes. He made a quick decision to grab his parchment from the table and screw it into a ball where it soon found the nearest bin.

He spun around and made to leave – and then jumped.

“You’re really good with your students. You should consider doing it full time.” Professor Scorpius Malfoy was standing in the doorway of his classroom, clutching an armful of books and wearing a smile on his face. “I hope you don’t mind my intrusion, I was just passing by and decided to pop in and ask if you were free for dinner.”

His mouth started to fall open in a gape and he quickly recovered himself. “Dinner? Oh– I’m– not. I’m just going to get something small from The Three Broomsticks. I have to mark these and get them to Professor Longbottom in the morning.” He motioned to the quizzes in his hands and wondered if his heart was _supposed_ to beat this fast.

Scorpius shrugged a shoulder. “Well, I’m walking that way anyway.”

And so his fate was sealed.

* * *

A soft orange glow from the sunset covered the countryside as they walked, and Albus wondered if his heart was ever going to stop beating so fast. It felt like a ticking time bomb, and the chilly January air of Scotland wasn’t helping either.

He held his breath as Scorpius suddenly began to speak.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but why _aren’t_ you a certified Professor? I thought you were when I started here last year. But then Neville explained to me that you just assist him when he’s too busy to do the theoretical aspects of his lessons, and that sometimes you do the practical ones, but rarely,” he explained. “And Katherine mentioned to me once that you oversee some of her Potions classes too. Is that right?”

Albus nodded mutely, and then finally found his voice again after a moment. “I’m not really cut out to be a Professor.” He really didn’t want to say too much – but after Scorpius stayed silent, he figured he’d offer him at least a little more. “I mean… Professor Potter doesn’t really sound right. And I don’t think I could do with working full time in the castle. I spent enough time there as a teenager.”

He wasn’t looking at Scorpius to see his eyes light up, but the sound of his voice told him everything he missed. “Oh! You attended Hogwarts. I didn’t realise. I always wonder what it would have been like to attend Hogwarts. Beauxbatons was _very_ nice, but I would have liked to see what it was like from a different country. _And_ Hogwarts is the school my parents attended… which I’m sure you’re well aware of.”

“From what my father told me about your father, I’m surprised you chose Hogwarts to teach at. Why not Beauxbatons?”

His words sounded a little dismissive, and he realised too late, but Scorpius was much more open-minded than him. He saw the things Albus intended in his words and ignored the ones he didn’t.

“Like I said, I would have liked to see what a different Wizarding school was like. This is sort of my chance for that. I’m getting to see a part of what my mother and father’s life at Hogwarts looked like. I’m getting to see a piece of their past, and a part of what mine could have been had my parents not decided to live in France. I could never teach at Beauxbatons. It’d be too much like I was stuck.”

Albus screwed up his nose – slightly from the cold, slightly from irritancy.

Was Scorpius insinuating that _he_ was stuck? That he, a student who had attended Hogwarts all his life and now _taught_ there, was stuck too? He couldn’t bring himself to find a reply to the Professor, and decidedly stayed silent.

Scorpius noticed.

“I don’t mean that _you_ are stuck, Albus,” he started after a few moments. “I’m sure you have your reasons to still be at Hogwarts just like I have my reasons to no longer be at Beauxbatons.”

He replied with only a small huff, and then they were arriving in Hogsmeade. Albus still liked Scorpius (more than like, definitely more) but he couldn’t help but be touchy about their recent conversation. He supposed he was at Hogwarts in an attempt to be at peace with his past. To create better memories in those corridors than the ones that plagued him every time he walked down them – where he heard the words of bullies like echoes or sometimes still _felt_ the impact of hitting solid stone walls. He wasn’t stuck. He _wasn’t_ stuck.

Albus made to walk towards The Three Broomsticks when Scorpius stopped him most surprisingly by reaching out a hand and accidentally ending up holding Albus’ in his own. The two boys, for just a moment, looked down at their hands, and then up at each other, before dropping them.

Silence followed until Scorpius cleared his throat and spoke.

“I know you said you didn’t want to join me for dinner. But I would really like if you would change your mind. It’s just–” His face broke into a smile. “My mother, Astoria, she sends me recipes all the time and she sent one yesterday that I want to try and cook for someone else. But the thing is… you’re the only other person I know that’s around my age, and I’d feel strange inviting an older Professor, however lovely they are, over for dinner… and I think I owe you an apology.”

“You do,” Albus agreed. But then he thought of the smile on Scorpius’ face at the mention of his mother. And the way Albus probably got a similar smile on his _own_ face when he thought about his mother, Ginny. Albus couldn’t cook for the life of him (and Ginny wasn’t too great at it either – that was his fathers job) but… he couldn’t turn down Scorpius now, no matter how hurt or embarrassed or unworthy he felt of spending time in the company of a fantastic, talented wizard such as Scorpius Malfoy.

He sighed, and Scorpius, as if sensing that he’d succeeded, smiled once more.

His plans to hide away in his house all night were thwarted, and soon enough he was walking through the front door of Professor Scorpius Malfoy’s apartment and trying _not_ to gape at how beautifully decorated it all was.

Scorpius uttered a small _Lumos_ and flicked his wand and the lights illuminated, and Albus couldn’t help himself from wandering a little further into the room, taking off his scarf as he went, and stopping in front of a small framed photo on the mantlepiece.

It was obvious that the young boy, front and center, was Scorpius. His hair was the same colour, and the smile on his face nearly the same as the one Albus had seen only minutes earlier. The two people standing either side of him had to be his parents – the man, Draco Malfoy, the one his father had spoken so much about, with the same blond hair, but a scowl that Scorpius hadn’t inherited. Instead, he’d inherited the beautiful smile of the woman – his mother, Astoria. Her hair was dark, but her smile brightened up the entire picture considerably, and while one could be mistaken for comparing Scorpius to his father at first glance, Albus knew nearly instantly that his mother was the one Scorpius had inherited the most from. His kindness, and everything else.

Behind him, Scorpius smiled as he noticed Albus looking at the photo, and then flicked his wand towards the fridge. It opened and several things floated out of it and onto the kitchen bench. He reached up and grabbed the pasta from the cupboard himself.

“If my students knew that I used magic to get things from the fridge when I talk to them all day about how Muggles use only their hands, I think they’d be a little disappointed in me, don’t you?”

Albus spun around. “I don’t think anyone could be disappointed in you.”

Scorpius raised his eyebrows.

“Because– because you’re a good teacher.”

“Oh, I’ll take that compliment, Albus.”

He regretfully walked away from the picture and watched as Scorpius began to cut something up on the chopping board in front of him. He’d shrugged off his own coat and scarf and was clearly eager for dinner, considering they hadn’t been inside for long at all and Albus didn’t even have his _own_ coat off.

Once he did, he draped it over the back of a chair at the dining table, and then stood, somewhat awkwardly, and looked around the room again. Scorpius couldn’t help but smile as he watched him.

“There’s firewhiskey or pumpkin juice in the fridge if you want a drink,” he offered.

Albus nodded. “Ah, _yes._ ” _Anything to get him out of standing and doing nothing._

He didn’t use a spell to summon the firewhiskey, though it wasn’t hard to find, and Scorpius instructed him on where to find a glass and to “pour one for me too, if you would” while he stirred something rather funny looking together in a bowl, and then stepped between the bowl and the stove where he had sped up the cooking of the pasta by magically boiling the water.

Sipping his firewhiskey, Albus eventually moved to stare out the window. The sun had gone down now and Hogsmeade was lit up dimly by the lights of various businesses, and The Three Broomsticks seemed surprisingly busy for a Thursday night. In the distance, he could see the lights of Hogwarts, bright as ever, and he smiled at the sight of it.

How a place where he had been so miserable had now begun to turn into a place he was starting to find a true happiness baffled him. How he’d spent _years_ there without one true friend. He wondered, if Scorpius hadn’t gone to Beauxbatons, if they’d have been friends at Hogwarts. Could he even refer to them as friends now? He wasn’t really sure of the true definition of the word… but he liked the thought that came with it.

And truly, would someone who _wasn’t_ a friend invite him to their home for dinner?

Despite the fact that Albus was falling _hard_ for the man cooking him a pasta dinner only steps behind him, he enjoyed the sense of calm that differed majorly from the calamity that his life had been before Scorpius had walked into it.

He didn’t know that. He didn’t know what he’d done for Albus’ life. But he was okay with Scorpius not knowing. He knew that nobody ever ended up with their first love – and he doubted he’d end up happy with Scorpius, either. His parents hadn’t been each others first loves, and nor had his Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron. But he would allow himself the pleasure of _not,_ for once, letting himself fall into self pity about it and instead, allow himself an evening of wondering about the _what if’s_ of the world.

Albus turned away from the window and looked over at Scorpius, stirring something _else_ together in a bowl, and smiled softly to himself. Whatever his life would one day turn out to be, he would take solace in this night. In a place he felt comfortable, with happiness, _true_ happiness, flooding his soul, with a man he loved.


End file.
